The seduction of Draco Malfoy
by intoxobscurity
Summary: Draco/OC, Year Seven of Hogwarts. "She stood before him now, smaller than he always imagined her to be, vulnerable and innocent. Watching him like she knew him, not his past so much as his future."
1. Chapter 1

**The Seduction of Draco Malfoy**

* * *

**Because of the very little description of Hogwarts in the 7th book, I took a lot of liberty in my own little plot line. Enjoy. (Oh, and, ****I do not own any characters of the Harry Potter saga or the books themselves.**** Besides, of course, the OC's appearing in this fan fiction)**

Abraham Parker wheezed slightly as he jogged along the blackened street. He was the type of man who had at some point, many fast food breaks ago, been pure muscle, but who had since begun to round. The street in front of him was illuminated only by the beam of his dimming flashlight, and in the eeriness of the night he was beginning to regret not calling in for backup.

His shift had just ended when Mrs. Crow, his elderly neighbor, had flagged him down to inform him of a "suspicious gang of cloak-wearing up-to-no-gooders headed down towards Rosewood Street." Although he and Mrs. Crow were little more than acquaintances, he had learned enough about her over the years to know both that she is a terrible worrier and that Rosewood Street is where her granddaughter lives. Being the noble policeman that he is, he had promised her that he would investigate.

So now here he was, cautiously approaching the group of men Mrs. Crow had informed him of. When he squinted, he could see them through the distance. They were standing in a closely knit pack, their arms raised above their heads as if in prayer, grasping wooden sticks tightly within their clawed hands.

'_Lunatics_' he sighed, shaking his head. After seven years on the force, he was not one to scare easily, but something about this particular group made him uneasy.

As if on cue, a few turned to inspect him halfheartedly. Abraham grimaced and slowed his pace to fish out a badge from his back pocket.

"Police! Don't move," he cried into the dim night, "don't move. I just want to ask you a few questions."

They didn't so much as glance at him, and he felt his mouth twist into an annoyed scowl.

When a flash of green light came bolting towards him, melting into blackness, the officer didn't have time to form a look of shock, or to even change his expression.

A frown had been etched eternally onto his cold, dead face. And when the cult arrived, moments later, standing in the spot where he had last stood, their laughter pierced the frozen night.

... … … … … … … … … … … … … ...

Many miles away, a mammoth of a train screeched to an unexpected halt.

Its compartments were filled with people, nearly all teenagers, and every single occupant fell silent within seconds of its stop. Fear wafted through the train, swirling into each compartment, and a slow but frantic buzz began to spread. Theories justifying the stop sprouted and built as each group became more desperate than the next to offer a reasonable explanation that didn't involve immediate peril. Wands were slid out of pockets, and young, innocent faces became grim.

They were preparing for the worst and yet hoping desperately, praying to Merlin, that their fears were not reality.

... ...

"I personally think we just ran out of petrol," A brown haired boy reasoned grumpily, licking the remains of a chocolate frog off of his stained fingers.

"You dimwit, we don't run off petrol." To this the boy flashed his dark eyes, exasperated, and reached for a box of lemon drops.

"No, Kat's right. I think they use some sort of spell to get us here and back," a girl put in wearily. She was about seventeen, as well as the others, with big blue-green eyes practiced on her newest book.

"Thank you, Emily," The other girl, Kat, was smirking calmly at the boy, "Oh come off it, Derrick. Stop pouting. It was a good theory."

He opened his mouth to retort but was stopped by the trains doors screeching open.

"Who in the name of Merlin would be boarding now?"

The others had no response.

... ...

The boy in question was pale, paler than most remembered even, with steel eyes. Hot flashes of metal burning in his glare.

He was tall and lean, standing straight even as he boarded the train. _Shoulders back Draco, you look like a mud blood._

Hair long, falling in his eyes, his shield from the world. _Disgrace. You're an absolute disgrace to the family name._

Cold, so cold.

_Disappointment. Look at me, Draco. Look at your father and your mother. Look at our master, and look at yourself. Everyone else is beneath you._

... ...

Emily almost didn't look, Malfoy wasn't worth glancing at.

But a longing hunger to see what he had become was burning her mind, even as the beginning of tears pricked her eyes.

Her book's words blurred and his name became the only thing she could see, lighting her mind like a neon sign.

_Draco._

Sighing in the desolate realization that she had lost a battle of will against herself, Emily craned her neck and spotted him climbing up the steps.

She saw the glares of her class mates, the fear contorting their faces. But then she looked on, and she saw what everyone else had missed. He was shaking.

Draco Malfoy was _shaking_.

... ...

"She's watching you again, Draco."

"Who?" The aforementioned boy glanced up at Crabbe, whose small, beady eyes were darting across the room in a paranoia.

"Pansy. She just keeps glancing at you and- she's coming. Shit. Shit. _Shit_!"

Confused, Draco continued to stare at his best friend, if you could call him that, unsure of the reason for his crazed reaction to this girl that they'd known since first year.

"Hey boys," she drawled, eyes lingering on Draco, drinking him in.

"Parkinson." He nodded briefly at her, barely acknowledging her presence as Crabbe stuttered a response.

"Goyle," he snapped, "what was it you wanted to ask me before,"

Draco purposely cold shouldered Crabbe, who was, he decided with a grimace, falling for Pansy.

_Emotion is for the weak. From love springs defeat. Always remember that, Draco. Always remember._

Shaking out of his thoughts he focused on his friends' questioning stares.

"Pardon?"

"I said," a slightly annoyed Goyle repeated, "Did ya' have anything to do with that weird moon thing tonight?"

"Oh, that? Yes, a very simple concealment charm," Draco replied, bored with the conversation. He breathed a small sigh of relief when the train pulled up to a shaky stop near Hogwarts. Finally.

... ...

"Emily? Are you alright?" Kat asked, concern sparking in her hazel eyes.

Emily observed the emotion carefully before responding with a light, "Oh, of course. Just nervous about the year."

Her two best friends nodded sympathetically.

With Dumbledoor gone, a whole new reign of terror was unleashed and many returning students, save the Slytherins of course, were worried. Were in danger.

A regal voice broke her train of thought and she glanced over to see Malfoy and his cronies parading towards the school. _In control at last._ Her bitter thoughts shook her, and she tried desperately to wave them off.

Unfortunately, Fate seemed to be against her and snippets of Malfoy's conversation drifted over to where she stood.

"Young man.. Killed.. It gets easier.. Abraham Something.. Avada.. Separate mission.. Sure to be successful.."

Turning her head away, Emily hummed an old muggle song to herself.

If she heard anymore she'd explode. And if she exploded her family, and most likely herself, would have the same fate as the young Abraham-something Draco was so leisurely discussing.

... ...

Draco poked at his dinner, playing with the glob of mashed potatoes on his plate and fighting back the urge to be sick. To tell his friends to shut up. He killed a man.

Shouldn't they be mourning?

Shouldn't the world take a moment of silence for that cop who was just trying to do his job? One of hundreds. Who told his family? His wife? His children?

Fuck. His bangs slid in front of his face and he weakly shut his eyes. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He was drowning, wanting to drown. He prayed to escape the world were he was pain and become a little boy again. When he had still been dreaming of earning his fathers pride. When he could not have even begun to imagine the nightmarish flashbacks of reeking corpses and rotting human remains that now consumed him.

_You, my son, will learn. Will except._

... ...

Emily lay in her bed, anxiously reflecting on the day she had had. Her breath was shaky from nerves and fear and she struggled to control her breathing again. In.

Out. In.

Out. In.

Out. In.

She held her breath and closed her eyes. Seconds later the air gushed out of her and she sat up gasping. _Damn it. _She needed to escape.

.

Emily Copeland was insane.

There was no other word to describe what she doing. Sneaking into the Slytherin common room? There was no reason for her to go there. Why would she even _want_ to go there? She was unwelcome. They would attack her.

With a burst of bravery she opened the door to the dungeons, _let them. _

.

She wasn't expecting the room to be as cold and musty as it was, but a vague recollection came to her when she saw the hard stone tile and meticulously hung banners. Green and silver paraded proudly above her, and a giant, curling snake displayed on the wall opposite her hissed at the unwanted visitor.

Lowering herself onto the floor she hugged her knees and took a deep breath.

"Emily?"

Her eyes flew open and she sprung from her seated position.

"Hello, Draco."

... ...

Taking a shaky breath, Draco looked into the eyes of his past.

The girl he had hated since the moment he saw her. Who he had teased endlessly.

The girl he had hexed and spat at.

She stood before him now, smaller than he remembered her to be, vulnerable and innocent.

Watching him like she knew him, not his past so much as his future.

"You shouldn't be here," he growled, "it's.. dangerous."

The threat hung in the air.

"You've never hurt me before," she announced proudly before mumbling a soft, "nothing I couldn't recover from."

"I'm not twelve anymore, Emily."

She winced at her name and stayed silent, eyes flickering between his own and a point just to the side of his head. He narrowed his eyes, irritation flaring through him as he realized she was nervous.

_People are weak. They scare easily, and die fast. Never show fear, my son. It would be your downfall._

He clenched his teeth and hissed, "I've killed people. I've murdered people with this wand, and for much lesser reasons. You're betting a hell of a lot on past mercies."

And then, so quietly he almost missed it, she mumbled, "I know," before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. "You can kill me if you want to. I don't mind so much anymore. It's weird because that's not something I ever thought I'd say. But with.. well, with everything that's been happening.. I've accepted it. It's kind of inevitable, really."

Emily shot him the kind of look that was wrapped in some sort of meaning, and waited a few moments.

Draco clutched his wand so tightly that his knuckles faded white and he was reminded of snow.

Christmas, he thought to himself. Think of Christmas and don't raise your fucking wand.

Presents, little kids, his father. The wand twitched. _Fuck_.

Abraham, remember Abraham?

His clenched hand remained virtually still at his side and she offered up a weak smile before turning softly on her heel and walking out of the room.

Nothing more had needed to be said between them.

... ... ... ...


	2. Chapter 2

Daybreak was approaching fast. Fog glazed the sky and peaks of color began to rise over the horizon.

A group of hooded figures stood together, speaking in hushed whispers, lingering in shadows.

The youngest stood alone, watching his fellow members with a steady gaze.

_Commanding eyes, us Malfoy's have. Be proud, son, you have them. Now everyone will know who you are with one glance, and expect you to follow in your great ancestors footsteps. _

He looked on, caught between sneering and throwing up.

Plastering a smirk on his face, Draco resolved to think about the latter at a more convenient time.

The death eaters he was concentrating on were insolent beings with big mouths. They were drained of purpose and desperately failing their mission. He caught the eye of the man he was looking for, his partner for this particular task, and received a curt nod.

In response, Draco lifted his wand and aimed it at the three wizards standing beside his team mate.

_Be proud, son. We're royalty- the world our kingdom. Now, what just king doesn't punish a few of his subjects from time to time?_

"**Avada Kedavra!**"

…

Emily took her seat at breakfast hesitantly, sitting with Kat and Derrick on either side of her.

"Hello, love!" Kat chirped, swinging her scarlet hair over her shoulder and reaching for the butter.

"The schedules have come."

She swatted a hand in Derrick's direction and he grabbed three pieces of parchment laying next to him, handing them to Emily.

She opened her mouth to make a teasing remark but, upon looking at the classes they had, words froze in her throat.

"Since when did," she finally choked out, pausing to examine the schedules more carefully, "..all of the Gryffindor classes take place with Slytherins?"

"Since Prof- Headmaster Snape decided that they would be a good influence on us," Derrick grumbled, "but everyone knows it's so they can keep an eye on us, the bastards. Hell, I heard all the professors were given strict orders to beat anyone who doesn't follow rules, no matter what year they're in."

Emily's stomach flipped violently as she remembered her trip to the dungeons the night before. She didn't mind Malfoy catching her. She was used to him, knew what he would and wouldn't do. But the Carrows?

Emily jerked out of her chair and started walking back to the common room, feeling woozy. Her head was beginning to get heavy and black spots dotted her peripheral vision.

Just as she passed Slytherin table, Draco rose from his chair, oblivious to her, with his friends.

Eying the group, she quickened her pace, hoping to avoid them. If she could just make it to the common room she could lie down and.. she lost her train of thought as the dizziness began to engulf her senses. Her entire vision was blackened and she could no longer feel her legs. She tried groggily to take another step but fatigue overcame her and she crumpled.

…

"It seems to me, Mr. Malfoy, that she just had a quick fainting spell," The nurse began, looking at him suspiciously, "Lack of eating and sleep deprivation, most likely."

She stared at him curiously as she voiced this last part, sizing him up, and Draco was hit with deja vous from his younger days.

Back when he would curse Emily and then guiltily take her to Madame Pomfrey, begging she didn't tell the girl that he had carried her up the entire three sets of stairs, or that he had waited by her side until she stirred.

_Never show mercy. What makes you a man is your ability to fight, what makes you a Malfoy is your ability to win._

"I didn't do it this time." He sighed, and she nodded at him, still suspicious but less so than before.

"I don't know why she hasn't been eating or resting, but I have to get to class. Good day."

Draco walked out of the room without so much as a backwards glance. He wasn't a boy anymore, couldn't wait by an old acquaintance's bedside hoping her to recover.

Madame Pomfrey sighed sadly from behind him and he knew she had read his thoughts.

…

"_Uggh_!" Light poured into Emily's eyes, an unwelcome stir from the peaceful darkness, and she bolted up. "What the hell?"

Kat giggled and murmured a spell to stop the illumination before climbing into the hospital bed beside her friend.

"Sorry."

Kat looked up at her, solemn for a moment, "What happened? You left the table so suddenly. Merlin, you looked like you were trying to escape from Azkaban or something, you had that crazy eye thing going. And then you _fell_ right into _Malfoy's_ arms and you _really_ should've seen his face!"

Emily blanched at the girls wicked laughter and slapped her leg playfully.

"Well it's not like I meant to, it just.." She trailed off and looked up at Kat pitifully.

"I don't know. You got pretty lucky, I mean _I _wouldn't mind falling into his big. _Strong_. Arms." She enunciated each word playfully, waggling her eyebrows.

"_**No! **_I mean he's.. he's a death eater." The last bit was whispered heatedly, like it was something admitted for the first time, a raw wound, and Emily stared down at her lap to think before elaborating.

"I always thought he would be better than he turned out to be. When we were younger we were almost friends, you know? I trusted him and he _killed _people."

Kat stared at Emily, her eyes burning. "I know. I can barely believe it sometimes, it's so surreal, but I know. I was just kidding Em, I'm sorry. I shouldn't joke around like that anymore, not about _him. _I didn't think you'd react.. I didn't realize you still thought about him," she looked at Emily quizzically, as if the last bit had been a question rather than a statement, "I know you guys had that weird, sadistic almost-friends thing going on, but you've got to dis-attach. He's mental. You need to stay away. You could seriously get hurt."

When Emily began to shake, Kat reached over and held her, stroking her hair.

…

Draco wasn't surprised that the classroom smelled like blood. It was, after all, Dark Arts.

"I love what they've done with the place." Crabbe announced sadistically, and a few Gryffindor classmates turned to glare at him.

The dark mark was hovering over every desk, claiming ownership of them. Of the school.

Amycus Carrow stood pompously by the doorway, sneering down at the students from his bulbous, hooked nose. His thin mouth spread into a wicked leer and he greeted them all with a slimy, "hello."

The class dragged on at a sluggish pace, but halfway through Amycus' lecture on how to do a proper Cruciatus Curse he stopped speaking, annoyance shining in his dark eyes, and looked towards the door as it creaked open.

Two figures came hobbling into sight and Draco quickly realized that it was Emily, returning from her stay in the nurse's office, with Derrick as her escort. Something bubbled rebelliously in his stomach at the image but he hurriedly pushed it away.

She had deep bags under her eyes and she looked so frail he suspected she could be blown away with just a slight gust of wind.

The traitorous grinding churns of his insides continued.

Draco's thoughts were interrupted when Amycus greeted the tardy pair with a sneer.

"'Ello mudblood, blood traitor."

There was a pregnant pause before someone's rough, brave voice resonated around the room.

"Ay! Don't call 'em that!"

Eyes widened and heads snapped towards Neville Longbottom, a shy, chubby boy who couldn't possibly have been the speaker of that sentence and yet somehow was.

And then Draco realized that Neville was not shy anymore, nor was he chubby. Decorated with fresh scars and twisted into a resolute fury, Longbottom had the face of a man.

Amycus, in response, looked frenzied, like a furious wild beast. His eyes narrowed and a slow smile began to crease his face.

"Speaking of the Cruciatus, Longbottom, it seems to me that somebody needs a demonstration. Malfoy, would you like to do the honors?


	3. Chapter 3

The weeks at Hogwarts crawled by and Emily had escaped the first month relatively unharmed.

Although 'relatively' was a rather liberal term. Glancing down, she saw that the slash on her leg dripped scarlet and closed her eyes. It would heal.

At least the Carrows had been merciful enough not to send her to the hospital, although their reasons were still unclear. She doubted there even was a reason and just counted her lucky stars that the cut was not severe.

"It makes me sick that we have to be grateful for our minor injuries."

It wasn't quite clear who had spoken, as she sat in the dormitory with Kat and Derrick. Each was lost in his or her own thoughts, only vaguely listening.

"We need to do something. They can't control us, can't beat us. Not when we're still willing to fight."

"They're breaking us. They're literally breaking us." Silence filled the air for several moments.

"Everything but our spirit. They can kill us, but we won't die. They can torture and murder all they want. We will _never_ die. Not if we fight back."

The words floated around the room.

…

"Is it true?"

Draco sat with his hands in his lap, posture perfect.

He breathed in a sigh of annoyance and glanced around.

Slytherins crowded the dungeons, watching him eagerly, like predators to their prey.

Had this meeting occurred a year ago they would have been sent to Azkaban.

Not anymore, he thought with a strange sort of regret at how many servants his lord had obtained. Not anymore.

"I don't know for certain," he paused, choosing his words carefully, "but whispers of a rebellion have been spread throughout not only Hogwarts, but also the wizarding world."

He raked a hand through his blond hair and let the excited murmurs fill the room before continuing with a smirk.

"_However_, what are they going to do? Look around the room! We're winning. We've won."

Draco couldn't decide which he hated more, that he thought it was true, or that he almost wished it wasn't.

_You are a failure._

…

FLASHBACK

_**She didn't want to ride on the broom.**_

_**It was her first year, for Godric's sake, and they flew so terribly high up!**_

_**Emily's heart pounded in her throat as she watched Malfoy, Neville, and Harry zoom around in the clouds and she shut her eyes in frustration.**_

_How did she get put in Gryffindor, again?_

_**It was going to be a long school year. **_

_**When Emily reopened her blue orbs she had to blink.**_

_**Standing rather close in front of her was a particular platinum-haired boy. His locks had been slicked back and silver eyes flashed at her peculiarly.**_

_**At first she had made the terrible mistake of taking his constant stares for interest in her and, after a few days in Potions together, had finally mustered up a 'hello.' She'd offered up a weak smile and held out her shaking hand, as if to introduce herself properly. "I'm Emily."**_

_**His response was not what her little eleven-year-old heart expected. **_

"_**Are **_**you**_** talking to **_**me**_**?"**_

_**He arched an eyebrow and tilted his head slightly, voice dripping with ice.**_

_**Her eyes bulged and she felt her cheeks begin to burn.**_

"_**I was, I mean, err, I only.." T**__**o her increasing horror, **__**the mumbled words had quickly trailed off. **_

_**Draco shook his head in mock sympathy before laughing, "Mudbloods."**_

.

Emily startled awake from the flashback and sucked in a heavy breath.

Those were memories she had sworn to never re-visit.

Malfoy lived to bother her after that, cursing her out and sending nasty jinxes her way every chance he got. It wasn't until about third year that she started to retaliate with clever comebacks and dueling sessions.

At first this new development only further angered him, but by fourth year the two had a begrudging form of friendship that neither admitted aloud.

They began to take some form of twisted pleasure from battling each other and everything became a quest for dominance.

"I'm _better_ than you."

Looking back, she realized for the first time that Draco had never fully challenged her or given her his full potential. He knew many more curses than her, but he always stayed at her level, and he only used about half as much energy as she for each performed.

Back then, he had only wanted to get a rise out of her. To see her stumble.

Now she was part of Dumbledoor's Army. She was part of the resistance, he a Death Eater. Should they ever meet under these terms they would be forced to duel for real. No holding back.

A question burned in the back of her mind, bubbling out to her whenever she was forced to listen, would he- would Draco Malfoy, show mercy? Would he let her live?

The answer her subconscious self came up with every time was nothing short from terrifying.

**So there it is. I decided to shed a little more insight into their past, and showcase Emily's point of view in this chapter.**

**THINGS TO CLARIFY:**

**It was hinted in this chapter that yes, she had a crush on him in first year. Her feelings for Draco in their second through sixth year however, I'll let you decide on your own through her flashbacks that will come in further chapters.**

**I think I'm probably going to let that be up to the reader.**


	4. Chapter 4

Emily watched the quidditch 'game' wearily, sighing as the team scored yet another goal.

"I really don't see why we had to come watch the Slytherins practice," she complained softly before turning back to her book, only to have it snatched from her hands.

"We are scoping competition," Derrick shook his head playfully. "You silly, silly girl."

She bit back a laugh at his antics and turned to watch the field.

Suddenly, and seemingly out of no where, a fourth year beater was violently shoved off of his broom by a sixth year chaser. There was a sickening crunch as he hit the ground that sent a chill down Emily's spine.

_They play dirty even with each other._

"That's just disgusting!" Her friends nodded in agreement and Kat winced.

"You know, if he hadn't been the one to shoot me the curse that.." the redhead let the sentence hang, choosing instead to merely lift up her bandaged arm, "I might actually feel bad for him."

Emily stared in shock at her friend's injury, disgust pooling in her stomach, and took Kat's hand in her own. She looked over at Derrick, whose face twisted angrily at the injured boy, and watched as he sent a very nasty hex at the beater who immediately broke out in boils.

... ...

The Great Hall, which was normally packed during dinner hours, was surprisingly empty. Silence resonated from every crevice.

His classmates had been forced into adult-hood this year and they now ate their meals slowly, watching their surroundings with unmasked suspicion.

Draco observed the faces at each table, reading their thoughts through their actions.

Hufflepuffs, loyal as they were, softly comforted their younger students, sitting as a collective mass and watching the world with glazed eyes.

Ravenclaws also sat as one. Soft, strategic whispers brushed past their lips. Planning a victory or, at least, a fight.

Gryffindors grasped for a sense of normality, practicing spells and curses in soft mumbles. But, unlike the other houses, they didn't talk to each other. There were no words. Each and every one of them proudly sported scars and bruises as proof of their unbreakable will, and a haze of courageous glory surrounded the table.

Shifting his attention back to his own table, Draco watched the Slytherins. Shoved his regal bias aside and strained his eyes for the truth. What must they look like to an outsider?

Green and silver twinkled richly from their fashionable, well-kept robes. Postures perfect they ate neatly, wiping their mouths after every few bites in a strictly pureblood fashion.

He watched them take delicate sips of pumpkin juice and stare pompously at the other tables. They were drenched in self worth, planning their moves carefully and looking out in disdain.

He knew then, for the first time, exactly which side his parents had shoved him towards, which side he was forced onto.

He was a Slytherin and their eyes carried not compassion, knowledge, or bravery.

No loyalty, insight, or fire.

Everything around them was shattering before their eyes, and yet they were still raw, still unsympathetic. _Evil._

Draco excused himself politely, placed his napkin daintily on his plate, and rushed to his dorm to throw up.

... …

FLASHBACK

_**Emily paced back and forth down the empty hallway feeling pathetic and miserable. It was already halfway through her second year and she still didn't fit in at Hogwarts. She was about as muggle born as they come, and couldn't help but feel as though she was always having to pretend to be someone she wasn't. Someone who was used to magic and who wasn't amazed by every new enchantment she discovered. Someone who knew wizard fairy tales and idols and who didn't walk around the wizarding world with a perpetual feeling of being lost. In short, someone who wasn't her. And with the chamber of secrets being opened.. she just needed a place to think. A place she could lose herself in and feel safe.**_

_**The air spun around her and Emily gasped in shock at the large, cherry wood door to her left. She came to a halt in front of it, debating what to do. It definitely hadn't been there when she began her pacing, which meant it had to have some sort of enchantment. It was part of Hogwarts, so it was probably safe. But, still.. in her limited experience with magic she had never heard of portals being summoned from anything other than casting a spell.**_

_**She hesitated only a second before opening the door, and found herself facing a vast sea of books in what had to be the largest, most elegant library in the world. **_

"_**What is this place?" she wondered aloud, her question ringing softly through the isles of novels. **_

"_**The room of requirement." A snotty voice responded through the darkness and she turned, gaping, to discover Malfoy, who was sunken into a rather plush armchair. **_

_**Emily could feel her face redden and cursed herself mentally, she was a Gryffindor for Godric's sake! She could stand up to him.**_

_**Opening her mouth, she felt a small squeak pass between her lips and her ears began to burn.**_

"_**S-s-stupid git!" **_

_**Malfoy raised an amused eyebrow at her hesitance. "S'all right mudblood. Lucky for you, this is my place to relax. I'm not going to curse you in here."**_

_**He chuckled to himself, as if he knew some private joke but didn't care to share it with her. A pale, spidery hand raised itself from his chair and waved in the library's direction.**_

"_**You are dismissed."**_

_**To her horror, she found herself complying with his words, anger lodging itself into her stomach along with some hesitant sort of thanks.**_

_**After all the abuse she took from him it was nice to see this almost civil part of Malfoy.**_

_**Some two hours later she began to make her way back to the door, holding an outrageously large pile of novels. Malfoy, still sitting, raised himself as well and dusted off his robes to exit with her.**_

_**Leaving the room, Emily began to walk away from Draco, before remembering what she could only describe as his warped version of kindness. As a peace offering, she turned her head to say goodbye to him.**_

_**When her eyes met his she saw that his wand was out. His trademark smirk spread his face. **_

"_**I said I wouldn't hex you in there, but made no promises about when we left. Stupid Gryffindor girl, you really should have seen it coming."**_

_**As her vision began to fade away and she felt her legs weaken, Emily realized, with an annoying twinge in her stomach, that he was right.**_

_**... ...**_

Draco didn't know what to do. Fire burned at his throat and nausea spread through him in waves.

Voldemort was looking at him, almost curiously, an evil glint in his slithered eyes.

"Kill them, the mudbloods, starting with the ones in their so-called-Army. If our little hero Harry Potter doesn't return at this, continue the killings throughout the school."

Voldemort spat in his face and the stench brought back distinct memories of the rotting dead.

Nagini wrapped herself slowly around Draco's arm, staring him in the eyes and hissing playfully, a warning.

"Yes, my lord."

"Excellent, young Malfoy. Truly excellent. Maybe you can finally redeem your family's vile name."

His father twitched beside him and shot Draco a look he knew only too well, oblivious to his mothers small gasp.

_Do this. Do this or you shall be sorry._


	5. Chapter 5

It was difficult to say why Emily had never befriended the 'golden trio.' After all, she was a Gryffindor, was she not? And they _were_ the ticket to saving the wizarding world, she knew that.

Everyone knew that.

But with a gnawing sensation in her gut, Emily realized that she had never made much of an attempt to talk to them, or to even introduce herself.

The connections were all there, Kat had studied with Hermione occasionally in past years and Derrick would make simple banter with Harry and Ron when he found himself near them at Quidditch practice.

The six students worked together in Dumbledoor's Army and she and her friends had even helped out the Order from time to time, thanks to Kat's family connections.

But a bond had never formed between her and the trio and Emily began to wonder if it had anything to do with her past, and very sketchy, connection to Malfoy.

Of course she would never give away any information that could be used against them, but even her friends had shot her odd glances from time to time when she would meet up with Draco to duel or competitively study at a table next to his.

Emily bit her lip as the past danced around in her mind.

She knew that she needed to become more active in the War. Closing her eyes and reliving the memories of her first six years at Hogwarts she vowed to do just that. She would no longer hold anything back.

"_Those stupid Slytherin Death Eaters want a fight? Bring it on, baby!"_

Her friends voice laughed in the empty room, a recollection of the conversation she had had with Kat earlier that night, and Emily nodded to herself.

Bring it on, baby.

… … …

FLASHBACK

_**Third year rolled around faster than Emily had hoped. Her summer had been over in a matter of, what seemed like, days. It would be good to be back at Hogwarts, but she felt a twinge of guilt when she remembered her parents' sad faces as they had said their goodbyes. Emily shook the memory away, glanced around the train station to confirm no muggles were watching, and rolled her luggage through the brick wall. She little more than blinked at the magical realm she was transported to, just merely sighed and began to push into the crowd with the hopes of finding either Kat or Derrick. **_

_**So this was what it felt like to be a pureblood wizard, always used to the strange and unexplainable?**_

_**Almost.**_

_**With a grunt of frustration she found herself snatched from her thoughts and crashing into someone tall, pale, and undeniably male.**_

"_**Malfoy," she sneered with an aristocratic nod- it mattered not that her blood was seemingly mixed with dirt, he wasn't the only one who knew how to isolate others.**_

_**"I really am running late, so s-shove off, git." Emily brushed past the stutter, easily concealing it within her words, amazed at her new found bravery.**_

_**It was a rather harsh thing to do but her day had been absolutely terrible, and she wasn't in the mood for the nasty insult that had presumably hung from his now slightly opened jaw.**_

_**The shock in his widened eyes, though it only showed for a brief millisecond, gave her a rush of adrenaline so intoxicating she could feel it coursing through her veins like a drug.**_

'_**Oh, and Draco? Watch where you're going next time, eh?" **_

_**.**_

_**.**_

_**.**_

_**Emily sat listening to Dumbledoor's speech on Cedric's murder with the rest of the school**_

_**An immense pride for her fellow classmates swelled within her heart as she felt the grieving silence radiate from all those near her.**_

_**Cedric had become an inspiration. A martyr. And they would gladly fight to avenge him.**_

_**It seemed that once again the Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff houses were becoming closer than ever while Slytherin slowly edged away into a corner of its own, isolating itself from the rest of the school.**_

_**The snakes looked at Dumbledoor with scrutinizing eyes, as if they didn't dare let him out of their sight for fear that he would ruin their plans. **_

_**Emily stole a glance at Draco to view his reaction to the ceremony and caught him doing the same to her.**_

_**A blush worked its way up her cheeks before she could stop it and Emily longed, with strings of pain plucking at her heart, to take back what she had said to him earlier, five or so days ago, in her rage. **_

_**She needed him more than anything at that moment to shoot her a snooty look and silently challenge her to a duel, to tease her maliciously.**_

_**To walk up to her as he did before life became complicated and say, rather arrogantly, that Yes, Diggory, the do goody prat, was in his room studying, why?**_

_**Did the mudblood have a crush?**_

_**She imagined blissfully for a moment that the past weeks never happened, could be melted away from her body like hot wax and drip into a puddle at her feet.**_

_**Or that he could read her thoughts and know that she would take it all back. That she didn't mean it. She needed him to know the truth, that Emily was a liar.**_

_**Much worse, she was a liar with a temper, and would he please, please, please just forgive her already?**_

_**Even if there was no way she'd ever be able to swallow her pride and tell him.**_

"_Merlin, Malfoy you're such a useless, evil little ferret! Why don't you just join the fucking death eaters already, after all the rumors about it? I hope you do, too! You know why? Because that's the only place anyone would ever respect you, and they'd all be deranged murderers! Go ahead and try to fucking join, see if you could ever make a difference, eh? But you're too weak to do even that, I suppose.."_

_**.**_

_**.**_

_**.**_

_**She sat next to him awkwardly, wand at her feet, her hands limply dangled at her sides.**_

_**Glancing over at Draco, Emily shot him a strange look, one of both confusion and pity, before speaking.**_

"_**You know he kind of deserved it." **_

_**It was true, Draco's father had done many things to deserve Azkaban, none of which she could bring up while comforting the Malfoy that sat next to her. No, she couldn't speak ill of Lucius Malfoy in front of Draco, but she sure as hell wasn't about to praise him either.**_

"_**What?!"**_

_**The boy was outwardly aghast and furious at her statement, a rare sentiment to behold or carry, "How could someone like you possibly know what-"**_

_**She cut him off with a cold look and hand on his shoulder.**_

_**"Don't curse me out. I know you're about to cuss at me or insult my bloodline or family or something, and just don't. Because that's what he did that makes it so no one pities you, Draco. He was malicious to other Wizards, and many times violently so. I know you're upset, he was your dad and all. Just don't go turning into him, okay?"**_

_**A moment of electricity passed between their locked eyes before he shrugged off her hand and glared. **_

"_**Don't touch me, mudblood filth."**_

_**Emily grunted slightly as she shot herself off of the ground and brushed non-existent dust off of her robes before gathering her books and wand.**_

_**It was outrageous!**_

_**She had skipped class to walk down to the **__dungeons_ _**to comfort this ignorant **__git_ _**and all he did was funnel all of his bad feelings towards her.**_

_**As she stepped through the door, however, she could have sworn she felt a masculine hand brush her shoulder lightly. Her heart stopped for a moment before kicking in full force and pumping at twice the normal speed. Images flashed in her mind of him finally apologizing to her, of him asking her not to leave, or, hell, of him just shooting her a wicked grin and challenging her to a duel.**_

_**Looking back into the Slytherin Common Room, however, she saw nothing. No trace that he had been sitting there only moments before whispering his nightmares to her and sharing his pain. Her heart returned to its normal tempo and she smiled softly into the room before murmuring a quick, "You're welcome," and leaving. It didn't matter whether he had thanked her or not, or even that he might not be able to hear her. She liked to imagine that he had, and that he could.**_

_**.**_

_**.**_

_**.**_

_**The mark on his forearm was glaringly obvious in the candlelight, something she wished she had not ever had to see, but honestly, what was the point of denial? **_

_**Draco merely stared down in disbelief as the skull-and-serpent glowed through his newly ripped sleeve.**_

_**Emily found herself only vaguely aware that her wand was still raised from the curse. **_

_**It had been their first duel of the year, even though December was already beginning, and he was very different now than he had been months ago, when school began.**_

_**Malfoy's weight had slowly edged its way down the scale, purple smudges began to form underneath his silver eyes, and his mouth tightened often, forming small, faint worry-cracks at the edges. **_

_**Draco seemed to choke a word out in his stupor, "Look, Emi-" **_

"_**Don't! Save it. I'm sorry."**_

_**Emily found her heels spinning away from the scene on their own accord, her legs moving away, obviously in some sort of conspiracy with her feet.**_

_**..not that she had wanted to stay anyways.**_

"_**D-don't tell." He whimpered from behind her, and she felt a surge of pity towards her former friend.**_

_**Against all common sense, Emily found her mouth opening itself and releasing a slightly pained, "I won't , so long as you stay away."**_

"_**From?"**_

"_**Me."**_

_**She knew for some inexplicable reason that her answer upset him to some small degree, almost as much as she knew that for whatever reason he had to comply.**_

_**News of this apparently couldn't be spread to someone in specific. **_

_**Whoever it was, whatever it was, all she could feel about the situation was a lurking sense of dread in the pit of her stomach.**_

_**Bad things were about to happen.**_


	6. Chapter 6

When Draco first woke up he was under the foggy, sleep-ridden impression that it was a normal day.

He had had a restless night of sleep (like always), tossing and turning in-between angst filled memories of his childhood and gothic visions of what he might become. What the world might become.

Sleep is sleep though, no matter how restless, and upon waking he found himself stretching and stumbling out of bed to brush his teeth. (Like always.)

_If he didn't think about them, they would go away. _

Not really.

Draco remembers each and every bad dream he's ever had.

But it was nice to maintain some sort of control over having to relive them during the day, even if the 'control' was useless. So, he repeated his mantra anyways, like always.

.

When he seated himself for breakfast Draco was distracted.

So much so that it took an egg, biscuit, and pancake before he finally looked up, a crispy piece of bacon hovering over his plate, and noticed the strange, chilly atmosphere that hadn't been there the night before.

Carefully swallowing the last bit of his hotcake, and skillfully letting the bacon slide onto his plate, Draco turned and raised an eyebrow at Goyle who, thankfully, caught his drift.

"Seems awfully different in here, huh Draco, why d'ya suppose?"

Said boy mentally applauded Goyle for speaking up and risking possible humiliation from classmates, should the answer be an obvious one.

"Mm? Oh, yes." He feigned nonchalance, and side stepped the question as Pansy's face lit up like a little girl seeing her presents for the first time on Christmas.

"You noticed?!" She whisper-shrieked, a pleased sort of smugness set into her words.

Draco again raised his eyebrow, only this time towards Pansy, "I take it you had something to do with this..?"

"Oh, yes!" She smiled with a toothy grin, and he was taken aback by just how sinister she looked.

"I cast a new charm I'm experimenting with, one to make the table feel minor effects of a dementer. I can't do it too well, though, only enough to make people uncomfortable." She looked down at her plate, disappointed, for a moment before perking back up.

Pansy giggled, "I also have some very important news for you guys! Don't think about it too much though, Draco, I'll tell you later!"

She winked flirtatiously at him and slid out of her seat, hoping that that would be _all _Draco could think about for the rest of the day, and loving the power that would give her.

However, when her glared at her menacingly, a slightly different reaction than she had daydreamed, Parkinson sighed and motioned for them to follow her into the common room for explanation.

Because maybe then Draco would finally notice her as something worthy of his time, as someone who would fight by his side and be endlessly loyal to him. Pansy would do next to anything in order to gain Draco's attention, and to finally please her parents by doing so. After all, he was a very powerful, very wealthy, Death Eater. If that wasn't enough to improve her family name she didn't know what was.

Draco, knowing this, became uncomfortable with thoughts of what she might have done to win him over.

Because whenever Pansy tried to come on to him she either attempted to seduce, or she preformed a horrific act to make him 'proud'.

Judging by how her grin was silly and mysterious instead of sultry, he was willing to bet it was the latter.

.

When they walked into the dungeons, Pansy closed the heavy door and shot a _silencio_ at it quickly.

"Alright boys, what's the best thing I could tell you right now?" She began, an evil glint in her eyes.

"..You're a Death Eater?"

"..You killed Harry Potter?"

Crabbe and Goyle looked anxious, whilst Draco simply mumbled out a, "..You're moving?"

Parkinson screeched with indignation and Draco cursed his loud voice, choking out a harsh laugh and playing it off as a joke, as he really was under a lot of stress.

In any other circumstance he would have been more considerate towards his female friend, if only slightly.

Smoothing out her hair, Pansy sighed and gave a falsely cheery smile, "No, no! It's quite alright. But it is about you, Draco.."

"Oi!," Crabbe looked as though a light bulb really had gone off in his skull, "Is it about 'is mission? Y'know, the new one?"

Slurred words by him were often a sign of Crabbe talking before he could think about what he was saying. Draco opened his mouth to tell him such but was interrupted by Pansy shimmying a little in her seat and nodding.

"What? Did you figure out a way to do it properly? You know we already went over how it had to happen fast and in groups, or else they're going to find someplace to hide or a way to tell Potter not to come back."

Draco spoke sharply, beginning to think this was a waste of time but Pansy, unaffected by his mood swings, persisted anyways.

"Yes, I know! But I _have_ managed to figure out the names and houses of all the mudbloods in their '_Army,'_" she sneered, looking at him in excitement, "_and_ I found a poison that, if put in pumpkin juice or whatever, will cause someone to pass out!"

Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle had confused expressions, but she plowed on nevertheless.

"Get it!? You can use the potion and then bring them to our lord, and let _him _deal with them."

"But he doesn't want to deal with them," Draco smirked, "that's why he's asked me."

Her smile faltered, "Well, here, I'll pick a few names and you can bring _them_ to him. Oh, you know how much fun he'll have with it, playing with them. Our Lord just doesn't have time to deal with their capture and all that petty stuff. But if you give them to him, he'll be really happy with you!"

Seeing that he still wasn't convinced she sighed, "Look, don't _Kedavra_ the others. Just capture these few first. If he doesn't like your gift, kill them at the Manor. It doesn't really matter where they die- they're filth. And if he does, you can continue taking the brats to him."

Sensing a losing argument, Draco sighed, his stomach twisting uncomfortably.

He went to _school_ with these people. He'd have known them for _years_.

"Show me the list."

Pansy quickly scrawled a few names and houses on a piece of parchment.

"How's six to start with? Two guys, four girls. A few were in the Order as well, and the other kids are on there because Our Lord killed their parents recently and will probably remember the last name. If six is too much that's fine, too! However many you think, but I'd suggest starting at the bottom. Out of the names listed, I put them from least important to most."

Draco noted the way she eyed him carefully, amusement in her glance. Her glee startled him and he snatched the list from her hands, trepidation growing inside him as if his subconscious knew what to expect before his mind did.

Hufflepuff:

Christine Foster

Ravenclaw:

Damien Goodchild

Taylor Shaw

Gryffindor:

Jane Barker

Jack Robinson

Emily Copeland

... ... ... ... ... ...

Professor McGonagall droned on about Transfiguration and Emily stared at her teacher, hopelessly bored.

"Psst! Copeland! Look over here!"

Her head snapped around to face Kat, who was making her rat tap dance rather than turning it purple like they were supposed to.

Stifling a giggle she managed to snap out a, "Jeez, _red_, you know I hate that nickname!"

Kat grimaced. "Ouch, touche. Me, Kat. You, Emily."

Said girl let her laugh out freely now, vaguely remembering an old muggle animated movie that had that line.

"Girls," McGonagall had noticed their antics and was now staring at the dancing rat in disapproval, "Please get to work."

The two smiled impishly at each other before following directions.

.

With a frustrated huff, Emily glanced in the mirror. She heard a soft thump from behind her as Kat plopped onto the bed to owl Derrick and smiled softly, welcoming the normality of it.

Emily ran a hand through her hair, turning back to her reflection, and tried to absorb the face staring back at her. Everything about Emily was a mixture of colours.

Her hair was somewhere in between a soft brown and red with light blond highlights subtly streaking their way through, a reminder of the sunny days she'd spent playing quidditch and swimming in the lake.

Her eyes were blue-gray with pupils surrounded by gold, the combination giving the illusion of a hazy green. And her skin, while still somehow appearing to be golden, also seemed to be lighter than that of almost everyone she knew. She was a pretty girl, not necessarily beautiful, but she got by.

Kat came up from behind her and smiled widely.

She was a few inches taller than Emily, her body thin and agile whereas Emily was more toned with curves. Kat's startlingly crimson hair made hers seem dirty blonde in comparison, although it was still a nice colour, and for once Emily appeared darker than somebody else. An occurrence that only happened with Malfoy and the girl next to her now.

Kat playfully winked at the mirror and Emily, following her lead, made a sexy pout before jutting her bottom lip out too far and puffing out her cheeks for comedic effect.

Laughing hysterically, the two girls made the craziest faces they could think of, relishing in the rare moment of fun free from stress and war.

When one of their wands began to flicker, the wizarding version of Emily's old alarm clock, the two girls rushed to the Astronomy Tower, eager to see their other friend and excited to be in such good moods.

.

When they arrived, Derrick was leaning against the curved wall, brooding. His richly tanned skin illuminated in the moon light and shaggy brown hair fell in his face. Upon noticing them, his eyes lit up.

Brown, the colour of mud.

Or chocolate, Emily mentally amended, thinking back to a conversation she had had with Kat a while ago.

"Hey you." He spoke lightly and Kat repeated the words, a smile ghosting her lips from their private greeting. Then Derrick noticed Emily and smiled.

"Em-i-ly!"

That was something he liked to do with her name, stretching it out and accentuating the syllables. Laughing, she nodded at him and laid down in the middle of the Tower, taking in the stars. Sensing Kat join her she closed her eyes and began to reminisce over their previous years.

It went on for hours, one person starting out with "Do you guys remember when," although of course they always did, and the others making lighthearted comments throughout the story.

They slept in the tower that night, sensing it would be the last time they would all be carefree together, at least for a while.

.

When the sun rose to indicate morning, and they awoke, the talk was centered around war plans rather than continuing their good humor from the night before.

With DA training sessions becoming even more frequent and challenging over the past weeks, the inevitable battle was all anyone could think about.

_Who would fight, where, and how._

_What the Golden Trio were doing._

_What the Death Eaters were doing._

_Which side, all bias aside, would have the most causalities._

_And who, all bias aside, would win._


	7. Chapter 7

Winter was approaching fast, and Draco was annoyingly aware of it as he shoved his hands inside his pockets to protect them from the cold. A job which his thin Dragon Skinned gloves were apparently too busy being fashionable to do.

Making a mental note to swipe another pair later from one of his dorm-mates, Draco shifted slightly from his tensed position, his frozen butt and legs aching, and laid back against the blades of grass, taking in the Black Lake before him.

He wasn't one to be humbled easily, and perhaps he wasn't even then, but a curious new feeling swelled inside his stomach and ribcage as he looked into the murky waters.

How many mysteries did it hold?

How many answers?

After a few seconds the feeling was, unfortunately, replaced with dread and Draco thought, not for the first time, about the Muggleborns on his list.

Pansy had watched his face carefully as he read through their names the night before. He had physically felt her burning gaze, observing him in case any emotion should dare pass through his thick shell. And, to her chagrin, it did. Against his will his eyes had widened almost imperceptibly at the last name written. Realizing his mistake, he tried to conceal the shock, but she had noticed in her hawk like glare and released a small hiss of anger.

Draco knew Pansy would never dare accuse him of anything to his face, but he also knew that questions would be raised if he did not act against the names she provided for him. Even if he did not bring Emily to his Lord, they would wonder why he had not simply murdered her. Being a muggle born member of Dumbledoor's Army was a death sentence.

Draco knew that. He had known she would be murdered or imprisoned ever since he had joined the movement. And yet, it had never seemed possible until now.

Anger burned inside him and he squeezed his eyes together to clear his thoughts. He wished more than anything that the list had never been created, but it had. And he was going to act on it, whether he liked it or not.

.

Pansy had loathed Emily from the moment Draco spared the girl more than one passing glance. She relished in his sneers and jinxes towards Copeland, and had even tried to curse the Gryffindor on her own a few times. He smirked at the memory. For a mudblood, Emily was quite skilled at defensive spells and was almost never hurt by Pansy's curses.

But when they were thirteen, Emily began countering his snide insults with witty remarks of her own. He remembered the first time she truly insulted him as if it were yesterday, could still feel the conflicting emotions that had swirled within him. He had been confused. Confused and very, very angry. She had no right to talk down to him, being muggle born and all. He had told her such on many occasion, but she refused to accept her role as a lesser being. She never was very good at listening to others.

The predicament enraged him. And Parkinson, desperate to win his approval, began to treat Emily like scum. Gone were the bat boogey hexes and petty insults, Pansy declared a full on war with the girl.

But something shifted between Emily and Draco in their fourth year at Hogwarts. They found their stride together and began to duel, rather than surprise each other with hexes. Snipped comments became more a battle of wits than an animosity.

There was no love in their relation, more of a hesitant sort of almost respect. It wasn't even very friendly, as she was still a mudblood. Nothing could change that.

But he held back sometimes, and they never hurt each other badly. Never held grudges or insulted the other with too much vigor. And that had been enough for awhile.

Of course by then Pansy had gone from hating Emily simply because Draco did, to plotting out the girl's murder in her dreams. But Draco had only smirked when she told him her ideas to kill her.

As funny as they were, he never thought Pansy would have an opportunity to kill Emily. Never thought she actually wanted to.

When Emily had snapped at him at the end of fourth year, Draco was sure they'd simply backtrack to as they were when they were kids. Back to the animosity. To this day, he still heard her harsh words in his nightmares. They whispered in his ear after every kedavra he'd ever cast.

At the ceremony though, when Cedric died, he caught her looking at him.

Knew, although he didn't know how he did, that the look in her eyes meant she was sorry. She didn't want to go back, and he was surprised to realize that he didn't want to either.

Somehow, it had been enough for a while.

Fifth year, his dad went to Azkaban. Emily's comforting had been no more harmful than benefiting, but he exploded at her anyways. Cursed at her with a ferocity he hadn't known he was capable of until it was pouring out of his mouth. And it was her turn to forgive his verbal lashing. He didn't think she would, but she did.

It sounded ridiculous to him now, but at the time her acceptance of him had shocked him to the core. She was so.. so _good_. Maybe she hadn't always been, but she was then. Incapable of holding a grudge. Incapable of hatred, or even of anger.

That had been the moment he realized how opposite they really were. While she was growing into good, he was growing out of it. Growing out of it so much that at some point it had escaped him completely.

He didn't know how she could remain pure in the face of Voldemort and blood status and war. And he didn't know if he could forgive her for being so untainted by all of the things that had destroyed him. But he did. And it had, again, been enough for a while.

When Draco got the dark mark his sixth year, he was too busy with his first mission to even consider Emily. But eventually, sometime in the Winter, he had decided that he needed a break from the stress.

The events happened so fast that he couldn't remember, for the life of him, the spells they'd used or the words they'd said when his sleeve tore and she saw his inky skin.

All Draco Malfoy could remember was the gist of it, the emotions and facial expressions.

That he was sorry he was such a bastard and she had to find out the truth.

That she was sorry for that too.

That he was sorry he was making her pretend she didn't know about his mark.

That she was sorry she felt obliged, somehow, to do so.

That she had been the last bit of goodness in his life and her walking away left him to fend for himself in the darkness.

Although, reflecting back, he figured it was for the best. Morals were a distraction. Draco wasn't meant to be saved from the darkness. He was meant to be consumed by it. And he accepted that.

But as loyal as Draco was, sometimes in the depth of his small heart he worried that he wasn't loyal enough, wasn't strong enough, to do what they asked of him.

He released a sharp whistle of breath, chasing the doubts out of his head. It didn't matter. None of it mattered. Because, damn it, he would try anyways.

... ... ... ... ... ...

The room of requirement was in complete chaos by the time Emily and her friends had entered. Derrick's foot had gotten caught in a vanishing stair on the twisting staircase and their struggle to free him had alerted Filch. They had had to spend twenty minutes hiding from him in an abandoned broom closet before they could finally escape to the DA meeting. And, by the looks of it, they'd walked straight into a pretty heated debate.

People were shrieking, pacing, and pointing fingers, each desperately trying to get his or her point across.

"HEY!"

Emily bellowed so loud the room fell silent for just an instant, but it was all she needed.

"Okay, I realize that whatever you guys are fighting about is important. It must be if all of us _friends _are in such a frenzy we're at each others throats," A few heads bowed, but most people remained unfazed, "however, we just got here and would like to know what in Merlin's beard you're going on about!"

Neville stood quickly, to prevent everyone from talking at once, and calmly explained the debate.

"We're trying to figure out if, when dueling a death eater, it's okay to use an unforgivable curse," there was a sad, faraway look in Neville's eyes, but his voice was strong and unwavering.

Someone mumbled a, 'Hell, yeah," but Emily looked at Kat and Derrick hesitantly. It was obvious Neville was thinking about his parents.

She wondered briefly if he was opposed to the idea because of what happened to them, or for it, for the same reason.

"Well what's the argument," Kat asked before hastily adding, "why don't we just start at the front of the room and take turns talking?"

And so they did.

"It's wrong! If we sink to their level, then we're just as bad as they are! Why kill when we could beat them without doing so?"

"Could we really beat them without killing, though? I mean really beat them, permanently. No! We cant, they'll just come back!"

"Well then we'll beat them again."

Derrick thought for a moment before joining in the conversation.

"But that won't work. They're not going to hold back. They'll kill as many of us as they can. Even if we do beat them a few times they'll still come back and kill even more. It would be a losing battle, for sure. There'd come a point where we weren't as much fighting as we were stalling for time until they'd outnumber us and murder us all."

A few people looked at him, impressed, but the debate went on even further, lasting a good hour or so before Emily got sick of hearing people go back and forth with the same points and contradictions.

"It's not like you'd be forced to kill someone! We all just need to accept that some of us will kill and some of us won't, and stop judging each other over that decision. No, killing a Death Eater doesn't make you evil, or as bad as them, because you're not off murdering innocent people. But we can't condemn those who won't use an unforgivable, either. They're still willing to fight, and they're refusing to let this war change them into someone they don't want to be. Isn't that the whole reason this Army exists? Letting them change you, giving up your beliefs because of them, well, that's just as bad as letting them win."

There was silence in the room, before she thought up an even better argument, "Even Harry Potter's going to do it."

A couple people opened their mouths to argue that he had never murdered anyone, but Emily cut them off.

"He's got to kill Voldemort, doesn't he? How d'ya think he's gonna manage that? A Summoning Charm? Body Bind?"

By now her voice was dripping in sarcasm, but it didn't matter, the point had been made all the same, and it was decided.

The rest of the meeting passed in relative peace and when the trio finally walked out they were greeted by the shrieking of Peeves singing Christmas carols parodies, much to the Emily and Kat's annoyance. But Derrick didn't seem to hear the whiny voice as he shot a positively wicked grin off into the distance.

"Things are finally getting interesting."

... ... ... ... ... ...

Draco was still sitting at the lake, lost in his own thoughts, when he noticed three silhouettes moving towards him in the distance, finally stopping at a small nearby hill.

Two of them, who Draco assumed to be a boy and a girl, waved to their companion and turned back towards the castle, fading into the distance once more. The third, however, made no move to go walk away.

He didn't know how long he sat there, watching the figure suspiciously, but after what felt like a good ten minutes the person began to walk towards where he rested.

For a small moment Draco worried that whoever it was would see him, before remembering that he lay in a small, sloped patch of grass hidden by trees.

She, as he could now make out it was a girl, wouldn't discover him unless she came within five feet of where he was. And, due to the fact that it had taken him years to discover the clearing, he highly doubted she would find him.

Satisfied and no longer bothered, he turned his head up to the sky, watching nothing in particular, before closing his eyes.

.

Draco was startled awake by what seemed to be a large animal sitting beside him. Heart in his throat, and mysterious girl forgotten, he squinted an eye open and turned his head, very carefully, towards the noise.

What was most surprising though, was that there was no wild, ferocious animal looking at him hungrily.

There was, instead, only Emily, who eyed him as though she was equally annoyed and curious of his presence.

"You're in my spot," She said, with a slight huff, brow furrowed, her eyes peering down into his.

"Oh, really? This is yours?"

She nodded.

"Where's your, uh, proof of ownership?" He asked, somehow making the flimsy words come out smoothly, and trying to remember what exactly proof of ownership might consist of.

Emily seemed to read his mind and voiced the same question.

"Well how about your name, for one."

She smirked and pointed, with great amusement, at the large oak behind him where someone had hand carved **Emily T Copeland **into the bark.

Raising an eyebrow in surprise, he looked back at her as if to consider his next move. He interrupted the silence with a drawn out huff before laying back onto the grass and forcefully re-shutting his eyes.

He certainly wasn't about to give up his spot to anyone. Especially not a muggle born. And especially, _especially, _not her.

She grunted, or perhaps it was more of a snorted laugh, he couldn't tell, and announced rather dramatically, "Well, I really hate sharing!"

"Hmff," the sound left his lips in a gruff, as if to say that he knew this was true but wouldn't be bothered with acknowledging it.

"But," her voice softened fractionally, "I suppose you could have it this once."

To this, no response left his mouth.

And when Draco sat up to leave a little while later he fully expected to see her sitting there, just as stubborn as he, waiting for one.

But Emily was gone.


	8. Chapter 8

Everyone has different ways of breaking.

Emily knows this because she's watched them.

Sometimes people yell until their voice is hoarse.

Sometimes they have sex, or lose themselves in training.

And then there are the subtleties, the tired eyes and slipping grades.

The scars and the loss of innocence.

The cussing and harshness and lack of sympathy.

There isn't one last sane person in Hogwarts. One last child, or naïve student.

Emily knows this because she's watched them all.

… … … …

Draco wasn't holding up well.

He was, despite his denial, ill.

"Malfoy's don't get sick," he would bark in a nasally voice to anyone who would listen. And so he would wake up at his normal time and go about his day with the same old routine he'd been following for seven years.

But it wasn't his pride that kept him from sleeping in. Nor the classes he would miss.

Draco had a mission, and he was close to fulfilling it. So close he could taste it.

The plan was to be set in motion the next day, after being skillfully planned for weeks.

It was malicious and god forsaken, cruel beyond anything he had ever done in his life.

But it _would_ be done.

He couldn't risk making his father disappointed. Again.

So he would bark and cough and glare, bark and cough and glare, cough and glare and bark.

It wasn't enough to want to make them proud, to need to kill the mudbloods.

He had to actually go through with it, too.

And he was going to.

He just had to vomit a little first, that was all.

… … …

They were making a racket, right outside the room of requirement. It was stupid and brazen and foolish.

Emily knew this, but she couldn't stop laughing and running.

It was as if her common sense had decided early on that today, _today _was a good day to take a vacation.

She couldn't stop giggling.

Even when Amycus appeared in front of them and her friends stopped laughing, she couldn't hold back the choking sensation, the smile cracking her lips.

Even when Amycus yelled and hit her, there it was- baring her teeth and choking into blocks of snorted chuckling.

Even when he mumbled _crucio_ and she couldn't tell where her body stopped and her screams began.

Even while her brain split into a thousand pieces and she was on fire, the giggle was there, at the back of her subconscious, gleaming white with pain and amusement.

And then Malfoy came out of the room of requirement, and saw her, screaming and shaking and choking blood, and he looked so pale and sniffle-y and sick that she couldn't help herself.

The sight of him like that was so god damn funny she began to cry.

… … …

He thinks maybe it could have been a dream.

Maybe he didn't see her like that last night and maybe his mind didn't explode.

But then he sees her sunken eyes and the scar from where she rammed her arm against something sharp- he cant even think far enough to remember the details, it's too much.

He knows the truth, can't even begin to deny it.

So he waits for his distraction to work, and it does. He watches her face when she notices an ink stain on her shirt and he sees her lip start to wobble and those two friends helping her up to their common room.

And then he magically switches his poisoned drink for her normal one.

And he knows that she will come back and drink, because those two friends have been making her eat and drink something, anything, for breakfast ever since her hospital visit in the beginning of the year. And then he will lure her to the proper spot, and she will pass out.

And maybe he wants to cry just a little bit because he's ill and this is too much, and why, Merlin? Why her? Why him?

But he won't think. And he won't cry.

Because he's Draco Malfoy.

And that's just not something he can do anymore.


	9. Chapter 9

Emily awoke hung-over.

Which was odd really, as she hadn't had but a sip of firewhiskey for days.

Clutching her thumping head with a pale hand and curling into a ball, she breathed in deeply.

Her throat wobbled as she struggled to drink in large, choking, gasps of air.

"Oh Merlin, I'm going to die!"

"Probably."

The voice that accompanied her painfully spoken comment was unexpected.

Too dizzy to open her eyes, she mentally pieced together a face to go with the whispered remark.

Shaggy blonde hair, pale skin, full lips, and eyes of molten metal.

Sirens of alarm began to go off in her skull and Emily's eyes popped open to spot the very face she had imagined.

Grumbling a long string of cusses, she looked down at herself and released a sigh of relief at the sight of her still-dressed body.

"What..?"

The question brushed past her lips as she sat up and adjusted to the light.

Draco didn't respond, choosing to awkwardly push a small bowl of porridge towards her instead.

"Eat."

His words came out as a croak.

"Am I in the dungeons," she persisted, stubbornly refusing to change the subject.

Draco winced.

"Sort of."

"Sort of? _Sort of_?!"

"Yeah."

Narrowing her eyes at the monosyllable reply, Emily crossed her arms and glared.

"Great! Awesome! Effing _dandy_!"

"Yeah."

This time his answer was an amused snarl, sadistic and completely in control.

It was all she could do not to slap him.

…

Draco knew Emily wasn't a morning person.

He also knew that she would wake up, for all intensive purposes, drunk.

And in pain.

That was what non-lethal poison did to you.

But he hadn't had an even remotely enjoyable week either, and the guilt he expected to feel at her awakening simmered down to almost nothing once the verbal fight began.

The nostalgia was there, of course, but she was a mudblood, one with her own personal death warrant no less, and some things weren't worth mourning.

Draco had decided this last night during the seven dismal hours in which she had slept, and was now decidedly quite proud with himself for it.

He could do this.

He could, he _would_, finally revive his families name.

She mumbled something from her spot on the floor and he turned his neck to her, arching an eyebrow, and forcing a smirk onto his regal face.

"D-draco? This isn't funny. Where am I?"

His stomach turned, and he closed his eyes to signify his not answering.

He could practically feel the hitch in her breath as realization dawned on her.

They weren't friends here, in this secret passage of his Common Rooms.

They were, in fact, enemies.

And he was, in fact, going to kill her.

…

Emily had long since stopped struggling.

Her wand was gone, her head was exploding, and Draco had a frenzy of protective spells placed over himself.

_So much for strangling you in your sleep_, she thought, a bitter smile on her face, as she leaned against the wall and watched him snooze.

She was in a bare cement room, the size of maybe three broom cupboards, and there wasn't so much as a door or window in sight. The room was the epitome of depressing, but that may have also been due to her only company being a sleeping boy who wanted to literally murder her, a fly, and a bowl of watery oatmeal.

She slid the bowl over to where the bug was flying and pulled her knees into her chest.

It was going to be a long day.

…

When Draco jolted himself awake, after a short twenty minutes or so, he pulled his wand out and shot a Silencio at Emily offhandedly.

She had resorted to, it seemed, counting brick tiles, and was looking ironically pleased to at least be going somewhere.

He mumbled another spell, in a language she couldn't identify, and the room shifted, spinning out of control.

Draco felt himself turning green, almost as surely as he felt Emily's hand clench onto his arm, struggling to remain balanced upright.

After what felt much, much, longer than five seconds, the motion stopped and she fell into his arms.

There was a moment, no, not even a moment, more like a split second, where he paused at the feeling of her in his arms. The shape and coconut scent of her was familiar, as if he had known it before, and flashes of a different reality shot through him. She could have been a pure-blood witch he'd just finished snogging, or a friend he was comforting after a particularly hard exam. She could have even been, in a completely twisted-ly different world where he didn't care about blood status, herself. His brain jolted and he shook his thoughts away as he shoved her off of him. His hand pulled blindly at a door that had appeared during the room's twisting, and it creaked open under his grasp.

Draco refused to meet her eyes as he pointed to a room not much bigger than the one they currently occupied.

Then, speaking in a practiced voice laced with malice and exhaustion, he finally introduced Emily to her surroundings.

"Welcome to the Manor."


	10. Chapter 10

Emily lay curled into herself, trying to ignore the yellow stains on her small, blanket-less cot. She hadn't been able to sleep since her arrival at The Manor, and was lost in a sluggish haze of thought.

There were many loopholes to Draco's semi-obvious plan.

For one, people were sure to notice her absence, and for another, Emily didn't quite think he had it in him to kill her.

Of course, she doubted that his father or Voldemort would share that hesitancy, thus the biggest flaw in her own strategy for survival.

She heard the door creak open and watched Draco slump in through slitted eyes. He handed her her meal begrudgingly, though it consisted only of a bland broth and a chunk of hardening bread.

Yummy.

"Look, I don't get why you don't just eat the damn thing," he said, obviously annoyed, "it would make things so much easier for the both of us."

Emily shot him a glare and turned her body to face away from him.

"Oh, yeah. Real freaking mature, mudblood."

After a pregnant pause in which Draco was impatient and Emily was unresponsive, he shot a quick stupefy at her and propped her upright, ignoring the stubborn death glare she was still giving him with her eyes.

However, force feeding her, he decided quickly, was not something he was interested in doing ever again, as all the food just dribbled down her chin.

Something that would tend to happen to someone cursed into not being able to move or swallow.

"I have to keep you alive for the next week until my Lord can come and decide what to do with you."

Draco admitted this in offer of an explanation.

He released the stupefy and stepped back, watching her eyes widen momentarily with fear, any denial of the situation dissolving quickly.

She was really going to be put at the mercy of Voldemort.

Draco's stomach knotted and he snarled out an insult to soothe his growing guilt. He just needed to remind himself how worthless she was and then everything would be fine.

"You're the effing Gryffindor! How about being brave for a second or two? I mean you did join that Army! Were you too stupid to prepare yourself in case you were captured or something?"

He chose to ignore her involuntary gasp of shock, for there was no suitable remark he could give.

Draco turned on his heel and spun out of the room, leaving Emily to her own morbid thoughts, and hoped to himself that dinner never came, for he could go his entire life without seeing her again.

…..

"I would eat," she began to say moodily as soon as she heard Draco's footsteps entering the room, "but all you bring me are stale rolls and crap soup that tastes like dish water."

"Well you are a mudblood, you're lucky to be fed even that." A new and yet familiar voice replied to her complaint, and Emily spun around to find herself facing Draco's father, Draco himself trailing behind and looking a tad green.

Mr. Malfoy drawled out insult after insult, each one promising a slow and painful kill from his master.

"It will be more excruciating than anything you could ever imagine." He smirked sadistically, apparently pleased with his threats.

Emily almost sighed with relief when she saw him walk to the door, her stomach had coiled so tightly with nerves she feared becoming sick.

Unfortunately, sensing she had let her guard down, Lucius Malfoy tossed a crucio behind him as casually as if it were an offhand thought.

.

Emily's body seemed to be ripping itself to shreds, her mind tearing itself apart.

Her shriek of pain was not something she was conscious of emitting, but it was sharp and tortured, going on and on until she had no voice left in which to scream.

Her insides were on fire and no thoughts entered her mind because all she could register was the hurt and the burning.

She could smell burnt skin, could taste her blood, could feel her life drain away.

And then it stopped, an instantaneous relief.

Emily looked up to see Draco staring at her, a stony expression in his tired eyes.

There was a thin moment of silence, Emily still gasping for air, until he began to speak, reasoning aloud to himself.

"My father.. my father just wanted to come and make sure you were being treated properly. He wanted to show me how to act around you."

Emily shifted uncomfortably and watched him through confused eyes, her mind too fogged with the ghost of her pain to register what he was saying.

"Draco?"

"I'm not Draco to you," he snapped, his eyes watering, "I'm Mr. Malfoy. And you would do well to call me tha-"

Emily cut him off with a malicious hiss, "did you get that from daddy dearest?!" She clutched her throbbing head. "Is that what he told you to say, is that what he taught you?"

Draco stiffened, "my father taught me many things," he spoke wildly, his eyes narrowing and his throat catching.

"Oh I'm sure _Mr. Malfoy_. Well, tell you what, _Mr. Malfoy_. How about you take your wand and shove it up your arse."

Draco let the crucio slip out before he could stop it.

And for that, he watched her fall back to her torturous insanity in a slow motion he was sure would repeat in his mind for many nights to come.

Draco stopped the curse as soon as he was thrust out of his horror and into reality, a feat accomplished only by her screams, and fled the room before she had time to look at him.

He didn't want to see what she held in her eyes.

.

A slender hand grasped his shoulder on his way down the hall, towards his quarters, and Draco looked up to see his father wearing a cold grin.

"Good job, son," his father drawled emotionless, watching him carefully.

Draco simply nodded, trying not to think about how his father's smile looked more than anything like a grimace.

He didn't want to know what that could possibly mean.

… …

"Well she's got to be somewhere, damn it!"

A fiery red head banged her fist against a table and looked up hopelessly at her fellow members of the D.A.

Derrick put his arm around Kat and squeezed.

"You guys have no theories at all," he probed softly.

A mass of teenagers shook their heads in synchrony.

"Well somebody has to! Get the word out to everyone on our side. We have to keep this underground, and we have to be successful! They've already won so many battles.. we can't let them have Emily too!"

Kat let out a small cry from beside him, and the room was filled with a mourning silence.

"We'll do the best that we can," Neville said softly from the front of the room, "and I sure as hell hope we find her, but I'm afraid trying our hardest and praying we get lucky is the only thing we can promise right now."


	11. Chapter 11

Emily was no stranger to pain in the days she spent at The Manor. It was surprisingly not, she found, something completely intolerable once she adjusted herself to the concept.

Burn, her mind would say, _burn_! Fire, your arm is _on fire_! And so she would look and find deception. A trick of the light.

Magic.

There were never any physical injuries, no lasting marks that she could see in the small, dusty mirror hanging uselessly in a corner of her room.

And yet, the light and the numbness and the screams, they would haunt his house until she left.

A ghastly memory.

She was slowly being driven insane, inching Draco along with her.

Emily was sure of this because said boy looked a little bit more tired every time he saw her. A little bit more withered. More dead.

More crazy.

She wondered what he saw when he looked at her frail body- dirt, or a helpless girl on death row.

From the dimness in his eyes and Draco's cracking voice, Emily would readily bet on the latter.

She wondered if he cried at night or stared at walls.

If he saw the skeletal robot she had trained herself to become.

She was not aware of time, of loneliness, or of pain.

She was not aware of pain.

She was not aware of pain.

_She would not let herself be aware of pain!_

And yet, as the sensation overwhelmed her and she sunk into blinding darkness, eyes blistering and heart popping, Emily was helpless to the blood curling howl she released.

… …

Draco had not meant to eavesdrop on his parents conversation about him, but he had been walking by and his fathers whispers were hissed so softly, Draco couldn't help but overhear.

"Our son will have to adjust to this. He is a death eater, is he not?"

"Yes, yes, I know, but he's seventeen! He's still at Hogwarts for Merlin's sake, Lucius! You know it's hurting his health, we can all see it in him! Hell, it's hurting _my_ health. People aren't meant to bear witness to murder. Not that kind of death."

"What did he expect from our Lord? A pat on the back for stunning people? No, Draco knew he would have to use unforgivable curses. I explained to him before he joined that the type of magic we use would wear him down and he laughed in my face. The boy has to adjust to death, or we shall all be punished!"

Draco noted that his fathers tone was strained and fragile, despite the harsh words that it spoke. He understood at that moment the saddened looks his mother often gave him nowadays and his fathers fondness for cursing their prisoner in front of him.

It was for his benefit, because this was to be his life.

He would capture and torture and kill, and he would not be allowed to run away before they faded into consciousness.

No, Draco Malfoy was destined to spend his entire life looking into sunken eyes as he shouted the words _avada kedavra_.

.

Emily awoke from her restless slumber and wondered drearily how many days were left until Christmas.

It was not foreign for her to recover odd details or dates in her sleep, but she was still quite proud of herself for remembering that particular tidbit.

When he brought her dinner, Draco startled at the sight of Emily sitting cross legged on her cot and humming Jingle bells to herself. She felt his eyes soften for a brief moment, as if he had forgotten where he was.

"Merry almost Christmas," she sung merrily, noting the sliver of pastry she had received with her porridge, "is that a tiny cup of pumpkin juice I spy, or do my eyes deceive me?"

Draco couldn't help the snigger, it came naturally at her antics, but he said nothing in reply until she made a nudging motion with her shoulder and raised her eyebrow.

_Talk_, the motion screamed, _it's the least you can do_.

And so the young Malfoy sat hesitantly on the cot a small distance from her, and began to do just that.

"Yeah, I reckon the stupid house elf snuck some in," he mumbled hoarsely- his voice suffering from it's recent lack of use.

Emily smiled softly and began to spoon some of the meal into her mouth, still watching him intently.

He was beyond suspicious. "What? You're not going to insult me?"

Emily looked at him with what could only be described as pity, and slowly shook her head.

His eyes lit in fury, but she swallowed and explained further before he could explode.

"It's the holidays, Draco. Who knows how much longer I have until Voldemort shows up here to kill me. I'm just hoping for one last Christmas."

"Stop saying Vol-, that word. You shall refer to him as the Dark Lord!"

She shook her head and tried again,"I should try to murder you or say something really nasty, but there's no point. It's not going to change anything. Pain is pain. My hurt and your hurt are equal. Two wrongs don't make a right."

"But you're a mudblood," he said, shaking his head as if this was nothing but a simple fact he was reminding himself of.

"So?"

Draco faltered, "so you're less. I have a right-"

Emily's laughter cut him off, "You don't have a right to anything. But whatever helps you sleep at night, Merlin knows you need it," she gestured to the dark purple smudges under his eyes and chuckled again.

"Have you cracked?" Draco asked in shock, his face ashen.

Her courage was unexpected and insanely stupid.

"Maybe. What day is today?"

"December twenty-fourth."

He shot one last suspicious look at her before gathering her plate and heading for the door, relieved to be leaving her presence once again.

"Oh, goody. And how many days until Voldemort comes?"

She spoke in a casual, mocking voice, and watched his hand clench white.

"Two," he whispered curtly, opening the door and closing it rather forcefully after him.

"Oh, goody," she whispered to herself again, bitterly, tears of frustration seeping out of her closed eyes.

Forty-eight hours until time ended and the darkness permanently claimed her.

"_Oh, goody."_


	12. Chapter 12

_Her vision was blurry, and Kat strained her eyes to find any detail, any clue, as to where she was. But, were it not for the shaking heap of a girl sprawled before her, the concrete cell surrounding her would have been bare._

_Kat wanted to look away from the scene in front of her, but she couldn't take her eyes off of the rag-doll girl who was now shifting painfully onto her knees. Her greasy hair hung like a limp curtain, shielding her face from Kat's view, but something about her was eerily familiar. Slowly, the girl raised her skeleton fingers and parted her strands, angling her face into view. Her protruding cheekbones cast wicked shadows onto her face and her mouth was open in a silent scream. The sockets where her eyes had been were now endless black holes, and tears of blood ran rivers down her face. _

_Kat tried to shut her eyes, but it was as if someone had enchanted them open. Her mouth felt dry and creaky, but she forced words out. "I'm so sorry, Merlin, Emily, you'll never know how sorry I am." _

_The girl in front of her began to spasm violently. She was wearing the same blue dress she had been wearing when she disappeared, but it was barely recognizable under its thick layer of grime. It was the same dress they had bought together at an old Muggle shop just days before the beginning of sixth year. Emily had spun circles in the dressing room, laughing as her curly mane flew into her face and the dress twirled around her. "Look at me, I look like something out of a fairytale," her cheeks had brightened with delight, "it's perfectly flow-y and it matches my eyes." Kat had smiled at her friend's childish glee. "Yeah, Em. It's really pretty. It's definitely going to get the attention a certain irritating Slytherin." Emily had rolled her eyes and laughed at the remark, and Kat could still hear the resonant, twinkling sound._

_Her heart twisted violently at the memory. _

_Emily jolted her out of her thoughts by speaking. It was a horrible, raspy sound not at all like what her voice was supposed to be, and it took Kat a moment to decipher her words._

"_Help me, please help me. Kat, I'm so lost and I'm so cold and I'm so, so, scared. Please find me. They're burning me and slicing me and breaking me. Please..."_

_Kat wanted to cry out, but instead she made her voice as soothing as the situation would allow. "I know, Em, I know. I'm trying my best. We're all trying our best. I just, I just need to know where you are. How can I get to you?"_

_Emily trembled, and wiped the blood under her eye sockets, smearing red across her pale cheeks. She tilted her head slightly to the left, a quirk that indicated she was considering what to say, and Kat felt hope blossom in her chest. "I'll save you." she swore, "just tell me where you are, and I'll save you." Emily opened her mouth as if to respond, but instead of words she released a shrill, painful wail. The room shook as the scream built and built and built, lasting what seemed an eternity before finally stopping in a sharp, shattering crescendo. _

_._

_._

_._

Kat lurched out of bed, raked the sweat-soaked hair out of her face, and arrived at the bathroom just in time to retch her dinner into the porcelain sink. Her hands clutched desperately at the edge of the counter, and it wasn't until she looked up at her reflection that she realized she was sobbing. It had been a week since her best friend went missing, and the DA still had no plan of rescue. They didn't know whether she was safe, or even alive, and every moment of not knowing was killing Kat. She had always felt protective of Emily, and the loss of her hit like the death of a little sister. She moaned and dropped her head, squeezing her eyes and trying to banish the remnants of her latest nightmare.

It was around 2 am when she finally crawled out of her dormitory and into the common room, where Derrick sat, waiting for her, like he had every night since Emily's disappearance. He wrapped her into his arms, stroked her back, and whispered indiscernible comforts into her hair. She knew that he was suffering just as much as she was, but he did his best to shield it from her.

"I had another nightmare," her voice was croaky, like it was in her dream, and she shivered violently.

"I know," he whispered back, his voice cracking under strain and lack of sleep.

He didn't ask her to describe the nightmare, he never did. And for that she was glad, because she didn't think she could possibly bear having to relive it. There was a pause before he gave a small, humor-less laugh. "I just realized that it's Christmas."

Her eyes met his, shocked, and she shook her head, as if willing the fact away.

"I can't do this anymore. I can't go about my days fighting the Carrows and pretending that nothing is wrong. I can't keep dreaming about torture and corpses. I can't fucking celebrate Christmas when my best friend is missing, and I can't sit around on my ass while the DA is pretending to be planning to do something when she's out there hurting more and more every second."

His eyes softened and he pulled her to him once more. "I know how you feel, honey. I feel the same way. We all know who did it. We just don't know why or what to do."

He was talking about Malfoy. Something within her clenched at the thought of him. He was the boy Emily had once fancied herself friends with, and the death eater who disappeared from Hogwarts the same day she did.

"Have you ever thought," she began, optimism creeping its way into her voice, "that maybe they just ran away together? I mean, she did like him for a while. And, well, she _said _that they stopped talking, but who knows? Maybe they were secretly in love and-"

He cut her off with a soft squeeze and a pitying look. "I want her to be safe just as much as you do, Kat. Believe me. But we can't lie to ourselves. If we're right, and Malfoy really does have her, then she's not safe and we need to get her back."

She felt her eyes water again and gave a stiff nod.

"Yeah, okay. Then let's do it. Me and you. Let's get her back."

… … … … … … … … … … … …

Emily groaned as she slipped out of her fitful sleep and into reality. She rolled her shoulders in an effort to ease the soreness she felt, but the throbbing was bone deep. She moaned in exasperation and slowly lifted her torso from her cot. Merlin, how had another day gone by? You'd think that time would stop in a prison like this, but it didn't. Not even close. If anything, it ticked on with more conviction than ever.

Merlin, was she tired. She had fallen asleep dreaming of Christmases past, but had woken up terrified in the middle of the night to the creaking of a door. She vaguely remembered having squinted in the dark, desperate to see her intruder, and that somehow, in a sleepy fog, she had envisioned two haunted, silver eyes staring back at her. Though their color calmed her back to sleep, the pain she saw in them had troubled her dreams for the rest of the night.

… … … … … … …

Draco entered her room slowly, the breakfast platter shaking slightly in his grip. He didn't know why he insisted on bringing her food to her for every meal. He told his father that he enjoyed seeing her because he liked watching her in pain, but that was about as far from the truth as a lie could possibly get. No, it wasn't that at all. He hated seeing things in pain. Especially defenseless girls he'd known practically his whole life. But he sometimes got the impression that maybe, _maybe, _the sight of him relaxed her a bit. And so he went, every damn day, delivering her food like the servant he most definitely was not. Perhaps he was just a glutton for punishment.

His eyes avoided her direction as he lowered the plate onto a small, rickety wooden table near her cot. He stared down at it for a few moments, suddenly ashamed, as if it were his fault that the plate was old and crisscrossed with hairline cracks, or that the small, clay cup of water had not been washed of its dust. He furrowed his brow and folded her scrappy napkin as best he could, then carefully placed the small, bent fork over it. The result was even more pathetic looking than before, and his face tightened in frustration.

He jerked his head toward her, prepared to say something snappish, but the breath left him when he saw her. She was sitting on her cot with her knees tucked beneath her, her small quill scribbling intently on a yellowed piece of parchment. The schoolbag he'd forgotten to take away lay half-opened next to her, and her tongue poked slightly out of the corner of her mouth as she focused on the note.

For a second she was fifteen again, scrawling out her potions essay at the table across from him. She never knew it, but the sight of her like that had always calmed him. She would sit in the same seat at the same table in the library, and she had had the same infuriatingly distracting pose whenever she wrote. She was the constant he could always depend upon in his messed up life. The thing he looked at to keep himself sane. And, yeah, so maybe it had helped that she was a little beautiful too. For a muggle born. So fucking what.

He cleared his throat and she looked up, startled.

"Oh, hello, Draco. Merry Christmas."

He could feel the strained effort in her voice and guilt overwhelmed him again. "What are you writing?" His voice was hoarse and unintentionally rough, but she smiled sadly at his effort.

"It's a bucket list. I made it when I was eleven and I've been trying to remember all the things on it," she laughed, although he didn't find anything in her statement even remotely funny, "it's a little stupid. But, you know, tomorrow's the big day and I just wanted to see how much of it I'd accomplished."

She looked as if she was bracing herself for an insult, but he didn't provide one. In fact, he didn't say anything at all. He just stared at her, silently demanding her to continue.

"Erm, it really is pretty embarrassing. Don't laugh or anything."

"As if I could laugh right now, Emily." He hadn't expected himself to voice that aloud, and, judging by her expression, neither did she. But she gave a firm nod, as if his solemn attitude gave her confidence, and continued.

"Okay. So, there's 'fight for something I believe in,' which I've done. I mean I wish I could do more, but I guess I'll have to be content with the time I've had. Um, there's 'see the world' which is most definitely not going to happen at this point...'have a real kiss,' eh. Kind of. I've never had one of those mind-blowing ones people talk about, but whatever. Contentment, right? Anyways, I've only been at this for a few minutes so that's all I remember right now. When you come back for lunch I should remember the whole thing."

She was unabashedly staring at him now, testing him. Her words were lighthearted but they screamed at him regardless. _See what you're doing to me? Do you see what you've reduced my life to?!_

He knew she was doing it on purpose, but his guilt overwhelmed his anger, and he couldn't muster up any sort of comeback. He broke eye contact for a moment, thinking, before bringing his eyes back to meet hers.

Draco sat himself on the cot slowly, as if he couldn't quite decide whether or not to do what he was considering doing. Finally, after what seemed like eons to them both, he began to speak so softly it was barely a gruff whisper.

"You have fought for what you believe in. It's what got you here in the first place, so I guess it didn't really matter in the end, but you still did. And that's something about you I'll never understand. You knew you were losing, and you knew it was dangerous, but you did it anyways. You fought the Carrows and you joined that stupid little Army. You did what you could with what you had. So, yeah, I think it was completely idiotic, but life goal number one definitely accomplished. And seeing the world? I've done that, it's not that great. Seriously. You're not missing much. Now, as for the last one, I've kissed plenty of women and I've never had that, whatever you called it, 'mind-blowing' experience you girls are always going on about. I don't think it exists. So, so far it seems like you've done pretty well for yourself."

When he looked up at her again he saw a small, genuine smile playing across her lips.

He growled, "what?"

"The fact that you even tried to comfort me at all means a lot. And, Draco, you do realize that you didn't insult me once in that whole thing, right? Actually, you were kind of.. nice. In your own way. I guess I'm just happy because I've been waiting seven years for you to treat me like a person and you finally have. I mean, the timing isn't so great. But, still."

He humphed. "It wasn't comfort. I was simply stating the facts. And just because I don't say an insult doesn't mean there aren't any to be said. Because there are," he paused, before adding in a grumbled "mudblood" for good measure.

Despite his lacking response, however, her smile didn't waver. He jumped off the cot with a disgusted sneer and stormed out of the room.

"Whatever. Eat your breakfast, it's probably already cold. I'll be back with lunch."


End file.
